Not Fast Enough
by shadowhuntingdauntlessdemigod
Summary: It was no secret that he blamed himself for Clint's death. It should have been him, he should have been faster. But he wasn't. And the archer had paid the ultimate price for his mistake. AoU, where Clint dies instead of Pietro. Oneshot. Mild 'Age of Ultron' spoilers. Very slight Romanogers if you squint.


**This is a short oneshot idea I had and decided to put down. Basically, the events after the Age of Ultron if Clint had died instead of Pietro and how it would impact different members of the team. I hope that you guys enjoy it! :)**

 **I don't own Marvel or any of the characters.**

* * *

In many of her dreams, she was walking down a narrow hallway, following the human shadow in front of her. They stalked forward with cautious steps through the never ending corridor, turning left and right so many times that she would've gotten lost had she not been following him. In the middle of the dream, the shadow in front of her would disappear and she would be left alone in the hallways, trying desperately to find him, a way out, light at the end of the tunnel, anything but the almost blackness that threatened to consume her. Eventually, the twists and turns and darkness and unforgiving walls, everything going on and on and on, became too much for her.

The cold air would force its way into her lungs with each worried breath as her echoed footsteps became after and more worried. She was alone and lost, with no way out, and the only man that knew how to help her was nowhere to be found. She simply sank down to her knees in the damp tunnel and pulled her knees to her chest like a child, waiting for the nightmare to end.

That was how Natasha felt now, sitting in the back of a car, a black satin dress fitting to her features, eyes turned to the foggy New York outside the windows. Rain dripped down the dark glass and seemed to dust the city in shimmering liquid. Behind the car was the cemetery. The headstones grew darker with rain and the newly lain dirt was packed down as the water increased. In the cemetery, there were many coffins.

Inside one of the coffins lie Clint Barton, stiff and cold, sheltered from the storm that was brewing.

Natasha was still working on believing it herself.

* * *

 _Flashback to a week ago._

 _The second Clint lay eyes on the little boy struggling in the rubble, his mind was made up. He raced through the broken city to the child, much like his own that he had waiting for him back home. Clint hoisted the child up and out of the rubble, securing him tightly to his chest._

 _That was when the bullets started. The terrible torrent of metal that cascaded onto the city, fired from a Quinjet. Clint_ _'s face set, knowing what he had to do. He was an Avenger, and it was his job to protect people._

 _He turned his back to the steadily approaching Quinjet, clutching the boy tighter, imagining that he was his own son. Clint felt the wind by his side begin to shift, and a millisecond later, he felt the familiar burn of bullets as they tore through his body._

 _Clint dropped the boy in surprise as his body shuddered, the Quinjet flying by overhead. He looked down to his uniform, where crimson holes in his maroon vest dripped blood onto the ashy ground below. As he raised his gaze, he saw the kid, Pietro, standing next to him with his arms outstretched, as if to push him out of the way. But he had not been fast enough. Clint crashed to the ground, Pietro_ _following him, not knowing what else to do._

 _Clint coughed, blood flecking his cracked lips, and looked to the blonde haired hero._ _"Don't you dare blame yourself," Clint whispered, broken ribs rattling in his chest. He knew that_ _Pietro_ _would, no matter what he said. For the first time in his life, he hadn't been fast enough. The one time when it really mattered._

 _"_ _Don't you dare give up, old man,"_ _Pietro_ _pleaded._

 _Clint heard heavy boot-steps coming his way. Not having the strength to lift his head, he sagged back against the concrete, the blood slick beneath his fingertips. His entire being was on fire, it seemed to scream into the depths of his soul. Clint could picture his wife and kids, waiting for him on the white porch of the house that sheltered him. The house that he knew he would never lay eyes on again._

 _"_ _Clint!" Steve's worried voice carried to his ears. Soon the captain was beside him, Thor at his heels. "_ _Pietro_ _, get the boy," he ordered. reluctantly,_ _Pietro_ _stood up, bringing the boy with him, but he refused to leave Clint's side._

 _"_ _Is the boy okay?" Clint whispered, breath rattling in his lungs._

 _Steve gave the child in Pietro_ _'s arms a look, and seeing no blood, breathed a sigh of relief. "He's fine Clint. Don't talk any more."_

 _Clint nodded and sank down to the ground, closing his eyes for a moment before reopening them to see Thor running over. The god placed careful hands under Clint, preparing to pick him up. The archer didn't even feel it, his entire body was too numb._

 _"_ _You must hold on, Lord Barton. For Lady Natasha, for your family and children," Thor repeated as he hoisted Clint up. The archer lay lifeless in the god's hands, his arms bouncing up and down in a straight motion as Thor twirled his hammer to generate momentum. Clint's eyes flashed over to Steve, who held a worried expression. His chest took in one more painful, ragged breath as his ribs cracked under his suit._

 _The captain_ _'s gray-blue eyes were the last thing he ever saw._

 _"_ _Family?"_ _Pietro_ _whispered. In a split second, Thor was off, flying Clint to the helicarrier, where there was medical assistance. But Clint was beyond what medicine could ever do for him. "He has a family?"_

 _Steve nodded solemnly, motioning for Pietro_ _to follow him as they walked back to the medical ship. He deposited the boy to his worried mother and the superheroes took seats in the back of the craft._

 _"_ _I should've been faster. It should be me, not him," the kid stated._

 _"_ _Clint wouldn't want you to think that. If there's one thing he hates, it's people wishing that they were in his place," Steve replied. But there was an empty, worried look in his eyes. Clint had been covered in so much blood, his eyes had held such a vacant look. Looking to_ _Pietro_ _, he knew that the kid didn't know what he did._

 _"_ _He'll be okay, right?"_ _Pietro_ _asked. Steve took in a deep breath and let it out slowly._

 _"_ _I don't know," Steve softly lied. His thoughts were cut off as the city fell abruptly below them, crashing to the ground in thousands of pieces a minute later. Steve's thoughts were still on the archer, what would happen to his family, and the assassin that was nowhere to be found._

 _End Flashback_

* * *

Needless to say, Pietro had blamed himself for not being fast enough. Natasha blamed herself for not even being present. She wasn't there to help him through the pain, to say goodbye. She was only there when it was too late, to see the corpse laid out in the med-lab, a quiet team surrounding it. She had never been able to repay the debt that she owed him, which was what haunted her the most.

Banner was gone. Clint was gone. So she turned to Steve, walking straight into the arms that were already open for her, stoking her tangled, flaming curls, as she fought to control the emotions that threatened to erupt inside of her.

A week later, the archer was buried in quiet, Fury not wanting to let it leak that an Avenger had perished. Only trusted agents were allowed to attend, so only about twenty men and women were there to see the beloved Hawkeye lowered into the ground. Clint's bow had been found and was buried along with his coffin. His family was not present, as the rest of what had been SHIELD didn't know about their existence.

All the while, Steve's comforting hand was on her shoulder, offering her support. Wanda's head was leaning on Pietro's shoulder, helping to soothe him as Clint's coffin was covered with dark dirt.

The hardest part was yet to come. A few days after the funeral, Steve, Pietro, and Natasha boarded a Quinjet, bound for a lonely, secluded farmhouse.

* * *

Pietro walked in the back, Natasha at the front, as they made their way to the house. It was obvious to Pietro that this was Clint's house. Or it was his house. Bows in various sizes lay on the porch next to the door, and arrows were stuck out of a hay bale that had a paper target on it. A half finished dog house lay forgotten in the long grass. The screen door flew open and two children ran out, a young girl and a slightly older boy.

"Auntie Nat!" the little girl cried, throwing herself into Natasha's arms.

Natasha scooped up the girl, tears evident in her eyes upon setting her down. "Cooper, why don't you and Lila go find the biggest ear of corn and bring it back to show Pietro? He's never seen it before," she said, obviously trying to give the kids something to do.

But Cooper knew that something was up. Looking from Natasha to Lila, and back to the group of heroes that was missing his father, he nodded and grabbed Lila's hand. Together, they walked off towards the cornfields.

Natasha wiped a tear from her eye, cursing under her breath for her out of control emotions. Pietro looked down at the ground, kicking a stone as a woman emerged from the house, drying her hands on a dish towel. Natasha started walking towards the house again, Steve at her side. Pietro looked up at the woman standing on the porch. She was medium height, with long brown hair and soft features. He watched as those features fell and she dropped the dish towel, walking down the wooden steps.

She was also very pregnant. Pietro's heart sank. Clint's child would grow up with only stories about the man his father had been. Pietro pushed down that notion and focused on the woman who was obviously his wife, coming towards them.

"What happened?" she asked as she made her way to the Avengers. "Where's Clint?" Her voice escalated in tone as the realization washed over her that her absolute worst fear had come true.

It had been her responsibility to make sure that Clint returned home to his family. He had saved her life, and she had failed to save his.

"Laura, I'm sorry," Natasha started, but as she tried to get out the reason for why she was sorry, Pietro began talking.

"During the battle, just when we thought all of the civilians were safely on board the carrier, Clint spotted a child stuck in the rubble. He ran towards him and freed him, holding him to his chest." Pietro stopped to take a breath. His throat seemed to be closing up around the words that he choked out next. "Ultron flew by in a Quinjet, firing on the civilians. I _tried_ to get to Clint, I ran as fast as I could. But not fast enough. He saved the child, and he knew the price he may have had to pay, but it was my fault in the end."

He added the last bit quietly, as if to himself, even though everyone else could hear it.

"I'm sorry Fury was so vague about everything. He didn't want someone tapping into the phones, or any of the agents to see you are the funeral," Steve's voice said, lower and quieter than normal.

Tears were streaming down the woman's, _Laura's_ , face, he reminded himself. Pietro brought his eyes up from the ground to see Steve watching sadly as Natasha and Laura embraced, choked sobs coming from Laura. Natasha held her tightly, her face set into a still sadness.

It was no question, even for him, that Natasha had been broken. And the only man that had ever been able to fix her was gone. Steve wrapped a comforting arm around Laura's shoulders and began leading her back into the house, as Natasha followed close behind. Pietro shut the screen door quietly behind him and entered the house.

It was two stories, with creaky wooden floorboards, but it had a safe, homey feel to it. Natasha and Laura sat down at the kitchen table, talking in quiet voices, Laura still crying. Pietro didn't blame her. In fact, he was surprised that she wasn't yelling or screaming. From the little that Steve and Natasha had said, Clint and Laura were very close.

Steve's hand on his shoulder jolted Pietro from his thoughts. Gradually, he led him out the back door to allow the women to talk. Outside, there was a large yard with kids toys in it and a small deck with stairs leading down to the long grass. Steve sat down on the white wooden steps, Pietro following suit. For a moment, they both drunk in the silence, listening to the wind rustle the grass and the tree leaves. So serene, so peaceful. The exact opposite of what Clint must have dealt with in daily life.

"March 1945 was probably the worst month of my life." Steve's sudden talking surprised Pietro, but he didn't say anything and let Steve continue the story. "Middle of the month, I lead a small group of guys into the mountains to capture a head HYDRA scientist on a train. One of the guys on my team, his name was Bucky. We grew up together, he helped me through some rough stuff, we were brothers, just not by blood. Basically, the mission goes wrong, and before I know it, Bucky's hanging off the side of the train. Dangling there helplessly over a cliff."

Steve took in a deep breath before continuing. "I reach out my hand and as he moves to grab it, the bar gives way. I lurch to the side, almost falling off myself, but he's already gone. Falling down into that horrible, snowy abyss. I lost my brother because I had not acted quickly enough."

"Why are you telling me this?" Pietro asked, confused by the captain's sudden openness.

"Because I blamed myself for his death. If I had reached farther, not let him get blown off in the first place, he would've still been alive. But there was nothing I could have done. I was as helpless as he was in a way. He made a choice when he signed up for the army, to be willing to give his life to his country in order to protect its freedom. Now, Clint never signed up for the military, but he did sign a similar contract. He knew that one day, it was very possible that he would never make it back. He accepted that fact years ago, and put it into the back of his mind, never forgetting it, but he didn't let it consume him. Clint was willing to die in order to save an innocent life, that's the choice he made, and that's what we have to accept. You can't beat yourself up over something you had no control over."

"But I could've been faster, I could've-" he started.

"And then you would have been dead instead of him. But Pierto, you're a kid. And Clint would never want to sacrifice a kid in order to save his own skin. You cared about him after only knowing him for a day, that takes guts. To blindly follow someone into battle and trust their orders when you don't even know their full name. Bucky would have never wanted me to sacrifice myself for him, even though we both knew that I would do it in a heartbeat. In a way, he took the fall for me, as if he knew that I would do something important."

Pietro took a long sigh, sucking in the fresh air and letting Steve's words settle in his mind. "Why are you telling me this?" was his soft reply.

Steve reached around and put a hand on Pietro's shoulder. "Clint lived his life. He had a family, saved probably thousands of lives, and he knew it. Every single time he went into the fight, he was prepared to never come home if it meant that one more person would get to live their life to the fullest. You still have a lot of life left to live. And someone like you, with your kind of heart, can do a lot of good."

Pietro nodded, his white-blonde curls bouncing on the sides of his face.

"Believe me, it hurts like hell, and it always will. Clint was a good man, he is a good man. And he would want us to remember him like that. Every time we go out to fight, we fight with him by our side."

"Can you teach me?" was a question out of nowhere.

Steve withdrew his hand back into his lap, obviously confused by the question. "Teach you what?"

"How to fight. If it's okay with you, I would like to join your team. Help keep the world safe. For Clint. I'm sure Wanda would love to train also."

Even though Pietro's question took Steve aback, he was not entirely surprised by the request. "It would be my honor."

The two sat in silence for another half hour before Steve got up, Pietro following behind. Natasha and Laura were sitting at the table with Lila and Cooper, one child in each of their arms. Tears were streaked down their faces and Lila was still sharply inhaling in order to stop crying.

Steve walked closer to Natasha and bent down to whisper something in her ear. She nodded and Steve walked back to Pietro, then headed out the door.

Pietro eyes stayed trained on Laura, who was holding Lila securely in her grasp. Her eyes came up to meet Pietro's, and she mouthed "thank-you" to him. He gave a small smile and nodded before following Steve out and back into the Quinjet.

Steve sat in front as the jet began to lift off the ground and flew into the sky, shuddering only slightly before it took off. "What about Natasha?"

Steve replied, "she's going to stay with them for a week or two to make sure everything's okay."

They lapsed into silence again as the Quinjet cut through the air, bound for the new Avengers facility. The white, wooden farmhouse slowly disappeared behind them, lost among the long grasses and the trees.


End file.
